


Team Sin Challenge

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for the Summer Pornathon 2013 Team Sin Challenge</p><p>Voting post can be found <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/97228.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Sin Challenge

**1.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Dubcon related to moderate drinking, underage, and age disparity (22/15); barebacking; brief homophobic language; infidelity (Arthur has an offscreen OFC girlfriend); a brief scene of nonconsensual restraint; reference to offscreen drug use

“I’m so bored,” Merlin whines into the phone, digging through the cupboards looking for something to snack on. “And Mum says I can’t have anyone over.”

“Why not?” Trevor says, his voice muffled around what Merlin thinks is a mouthful of crisps.

“We have house guests next week, and she thinks my friends are too messy.”

Trevor laughs, a bag crinkling on the other end of the line. “Mum and Dad are at a bed and breakfast this weekend—”

“Shagging,” Merlin interjects, satisfied with Trevor’s long groan.

“Eugh, stop it,” he says. “Anyway, my brother’s home this weekend and might be willing to sweet-talk your mum if we buy him a pizza.”

“I forgot you even had a brother,” Merlin says, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he rinses off a pear. “Ask him!”

“Arthur!”

There are sounds of struggle, and Trevor whimpers, like maybe his brother’s got him in a submission hold. Merlin takes a bite out of his pear and snickers when he hears Trevor surrender.

“Hey, will you promise my mate’s mum that we’ll be good lads so he can stay over?”

“What’s in it for me?” says another voice, presumably Trevor’s brother, and he sounds like a prick.

“Your choice of pizza?”

“Throw in beer money and I’ll let you drink some.”

“Best brother ever,” Trevor says, and Merlin can’t help smiling at the joy in Trevor’s voice.

“Hey, kid,” Arthur says into the phone. Merlin swallows the unchewed bit of pear in his mouth, and it hurts the whole way down.

“Merlin,” Trevor says helpfully.

“Kid,” Arthur repeats, and Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Put your mum on the line if you’re coming.”

Merlin runs upstairs and finds his mum refolding all the towels in the linen closet.

“Mum, I really want to go to Trevor’s tonight,” Merlin says, putting on his best hopeful face.

“What am I going to ask?”

“My schoolwork is done, my room is tidy, and we’ll be supervised. I’ve got Trevor’s big brother on the phone.”

“Brother?” Merlin’s mum says, narrowing her eyes.

“He’s old,” Merlin says, and he catches a faint _Oi!_ from where the phone rests against his hip. “He’s almost finished uni. I’ve got him on the phone.”

His mum nods, and he hands over his phone, hoping Arthur sounds convincingly authoritarian. Apparently it works, because she tells him to hurry up and get his things ready because she doesn’t want to have to feed him dinner.

***

Merlin doesn’t expect Arthur will be fucking gorgeous, but he is. Trevor is Merlin’s best mate, and he’d do anything for the kid, but he’s sort of a paunchy, spotty lad with the most perfectly round head Merlin has ever seen. Arthur, on the other hand, is all lean muscle and broad shoulders, and his features remind Merlin of all those sculptures of Roman gods. Or maybe they’re Greek. Anyway, Arthur is like something out of one of those classy pornos where everyone is actually good-looking.

Merlin feels stupidly self-conscious eating in front of him, like he’ll get grease on his face and Arthur will think he’s disgusting. As it is, Arthur just thinks he’s a kid.

“How old are you even?” Arthur says from across the table, squinting his eyes at Merlin like he’s an unusual-looking bug. “Twelve?”

“Fifteen,” Merlin says like that’s a big improvement. When Arthur laughs, head tipped back and smooth throat bared, Merlin realises it really isn’t much of a difference and then feels stupid for sounding so proud of being _fifteen_. Not even sixteen, which at least has a nice ring to it. “How old are you? Forty?”

“Yes, I’m forty,” Arthur says, then takes a swig of his beer.

“He’s twenty-two,” Trevor says. Something about the number makes Merlin feel hot inside.

Arthur’s phone rings, and he answers it, “Hey, babe.”

Merlin goes to the fridge to get another beer and tries to swallow his ridiculous disappointment. _Of course_ Arthur has a girlfriend.

“Is that Kelly?” Trevor asks, and even Merlin finds the question obnoxious.

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Arthur says, then, “No, I’m just having pizza with my little brother.”

“And Merlin!” Trevor says, affronted for Merlin’s sake, and Merlin turns his head to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’ll call you later.” Arthur sets the phone on the table and digs back into his pizza, and he doesn’t even look stupid when half the toppings fall off the bite he’s taking.

“Kelly is banging,” Trevor says, over-excited. “Do you have a picture?”

“I’m not showing your friend a picture of my girlfriend so he can wank to it later.”

Trevor laughs a bit too loud, and Merlin drops his pizza, shakes his head vigorously at Trevor, but it’s too late. “Merlin’s gayer than Elton John.”

“No, I’m not!” Merlin says, and he immediately hates himself for it. He’s never denied his sexuality before. “I mean, I’m not _that_ gay. Just. Gay. That’s all.”

His face is flaming, and he drinks deeply from his beer, trying not to grimace. Arthur’s just looking at him like he’s even more strange than he was a minute ago, and Merlin settles on ignoring him for the rest of the night.

But that plan is made more complicated when Arthur decides to hang around and play video games with Merlin and Trevor. He’s better than a jock should be, his hand dexterity almost as good as Merlin’s … almost. But Merlin still edges out the win in Madden and then later saves Arthur’s arse in Mass Effect 3. He even beats Arthur at Wii Tennis, which only pisses him off.

Trevor’s a sleepy drunk and passes out around eleven with his hand in the bag of crisps as he’s waiting for his turn to bowl, because they only have two controllers despite being stupidly wealthy (at least Merlin thinks so, but Merlin doesn’t even _have_ a console, let alone three). So it sort of becomes Merlin hanging out with Arthur, which isn’t so bad. Arthur says the stupidest shit when he’s losing a game ( _Come here, you little cock-monkey!_ ), and he’s sort of funny and has a stupid, gorgeous, crooked grin. He’s all about the shoulder punches and back slaps, which normally strike Merlin as so … try-hard hetero, but from Arthur, they feel appreciative and even affectionate.

“My wrist hurts,” Arthur complains, stretching big, his T-shirt lifting up to expose a wide strip of skin. “Another beer?”

Merlin looks down at Trevor, who’s still fast asleep, and shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

He follows Arthur out into the kitchen, staring at his arse, because it’s really quite perfect. Arthur’s practically putting the damned thing on display when he bends over to pull two beers out of the fridge. He twists off the cap before he hands one to Merlin, like Merlin’s some helpless girl, and Merlin feels an odd mix of indignation and excitement at that.

“You’re not drunk or anything, are you, kid?” Arthur asks as Merlin takes a long pull from his bottle.

Merlin is … not drunk, exactly—he can walk straight and keep track of a conversation—but he’s not sober, either. He’s a bit too calm, his brain pleasantly swimming and his skin over-warm. “I’ve only had, like, four beers,” Merlin says as he leans back against the worktop, not quite answering the question.

“Oh, and you drink all the time?” Arthur says, sounding unconvinced. “What about drugs? Have you ever done any of those?”

Merlin shakes his head no.

“Really? No weed? No X?”

“No. Not yet, I mean,” Merlin amends, feeling self-conscious, like maybe Arthur will realise how young he is and leave, embarrassed for him.

“X, man. You’ve got to try it. I mean, not that I’d ever encourage a minor to use drugs.” Arthur makes a mock stern face, and Merlin grins at him.

“No, of course not!” Merlin says as though appalled. “But what’s it like?”

“It’s like ….” Arthur pauses, face creased with consideration. “Your whole body tingles. But it’s not bad like when your leg falls asleep. It’s good. And it’s like you love everybody, and all you want is to touch someone, to have them touch you.”

Arthur runs a hand down his chest, eyes closed. Merlin feels like he can’t breathe properly.

“And your cock. It gets hard and you don’t even notice, and when you touch it ....”

Arthur reaches down and cups his crotch, rubbing a circle over himself. Merlin takes a large gulp of his beer to keep himself busy as he watches Arthur roll his hips against his hand, not wanting to jinx this strange, horribly arousing moment.

“When you touch it,” Arthur repeats, voice lower, scratchier, “it’s incredible. You’ve never felt anything like it. It’s like … it’s just so hot, and it’s _so_ fucking hard.”

Arthur opens his eyes and stares at Merlin, and Merlin feels like a voyeur who’s just been caught. He clutches his half-drunk beer.

“Well, this got weird,” Merlin says in a panic, trying to ease some of the tension.

“‘Cause you’re a faggot?”

Merlin winces, feels like he might vomit. He tries to get away, to leave the kitchen before Arthur can hurt him, but Arthur moves quickly, gets his hands on the worktop on either side of Merlin.

“Please let me go,” Merlin says, looking towards the door. “I’ll go home so—”

“Do you like sucking cock?”

“What?” Merlin is startled into looking at Arthur, and his face is close—closer than it should be, and Merlin tries to twist away, but Arthur has him trapped. “I don’t …. I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”

“But you want to?”

“I guess,” Merlin says. He tries to squeeze past Arthur’s legs, but Arthur presses him hard against the worktop, thighs and hips strong against Merlin, the heat of his body fuzzing up Merlin’s brain.

“You like boys sucking you off?”

“I would,” Merlin says, more confident. “Never done that before, either.”

“Ooh, such a virgin.” Merlin thinks Arthur’s hips press in even harder. “Has your cock even filled in yet, or do you still look like a little boy?”

“Take a look.” Merlin can’t believe he says it, but the alcohol has made him feel easy, loose, _brave_.

“That an invitation?” Arthur asks, all hot breath against Merlin’s neck, and Merlin actually _moans_.

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to say ‘please.’”

“How about ‘fuck you’?” Merlin says, pleased with how aloof he sounds.

Arthur’s voice is harsh and deep when he says, “Maybe the second time you come tonight.”

Merlin’s blood is loud in his ears, his head too hot, and then Arthur’s hand is down his trousers, inside his pants, palming his cock, and Merlin doesn’t even know how to breathe, is giving up the habit entirely, because _fuck_.

“I hope you brought an extra change of clothes, because you’re about to make a mess of these.”

Merlin tries to dig his fingers into the worktop, tries to find something to steady him, but Arthur’s body is pressed firmly against his, and his hand is pumping him hard, and Merlin is going to fucking _come_. He tips his head down, tries to concentrate on _not fucking coming yet_ , but it is so goddamn difficult with Arthur’s hard cock nudged up against his thigh and the smell of Arthur’s sweat so close.

“Your face is so pretty,” Arthur says, running his nose across Merlin’s brow, and Merlin _whimpers_. “Let me see it. Want to see how you look when you come for me.”

Merlin throws his head back and comes, gasping loud.

“That’s it,” Arthur says, his fingers strong on Merlin’s chin, and when Merlin looks, Arthur’s lips are parted, his eyes gone dark, and Merlin has the absurd realisation that Arthur wants to fuck him. It makes his prick twitch again.

“Was that good?” Arthur asks, pulling his soiled hand out of Merlin’s jeans, and Merlin nods. “Good. You want to blow me?”

Merlin almost laughs, because what a fucking ridiculous question. He realises he’s still holding his beer and _does_ laugh, takes a drink. Arthur pulls it from his lips and finishes it off, a few drops gathering at the side of his mouth, and Merlin leans forward, licks him clean and then kisses him. Arthur moans like it’s good, like he likes Merlin’s mouth, and Merlin feels encouraged, reaches down and gets Arthur’s belt undone as he sucks at Arthur’s lips. He doesn’t even fucking know what he’s doing, has never kissed anyone like this before, but Arthur wraps his hand around Merlin’s neck and slides his tongue into his mouth. It makes Merlin feel a little light-headed, more intimate than getting off against Arthur’s hand, and as Merlin unzips Arthur’s jeans and pushes them down his hips, he has a strong desire to be good for him.

Merlin cups Arthur’s cock, still not quite believing that his first time doing this is with someone so fucking beautiful. Arthur presses against him and pulls his mouth away, runs a thumb across Merlin’s lip, and Merlin sinks slowly, deliberately, to his knees, eyes locked with Arthur’s. And Arthur looks so goddamn pretty, like he’s a bit surprised, and he gasps when Merlin slides his pants down, cock so hard it stands straight out, like it’s begging for Merlin’s mouth.

He doesn’t waste any time, not wanting to give Arthur a chance to reconsider. He wraps his lips around the head and sucks, leans forward, takes him in deep. Arthur is loud above him, humming his appreciation, and it makes Merlin feel hot, like Trevor might walk in and see his best friend’s mouth full of his brother’s cock.

Merlin’s watched enough porn to know how this goes, and he’s practised on enough phallic objects to take Arthur into his throat a few times before he starts gagging, just to prove himself. Arthur’s groans make him feel fucking powerful, like he’s taken Arthur apart and made some piece of him Merlin’s.

“You suck so good,” Arthur says, running his fingers through Merlin’s hair, and Merlin moans around his cock. Arthur pulls his hips away, his prick popping out of Merlin’s mouth with an obscene, wet noise. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Merlin feels a hot surge of lust at the idea of being in Arthur’s bed. “Are you gonna fuck me?” he asks, breathless.

“No,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “You have to save that for someone special.”

Merlin’s chest aches with rejection, but he tries to play it off with a flippant, “You’re not special, eh?”

“No, I’m a pervert,” Arthur says, and he looks genuinely pained. “In a few years, you’ll agree with me, and you’ll be glad I didn’t let you give me that.”

“You’re not a pervert,” Merlin says. “I want you to fuck me.”

Arthur grins at him but shakes his head. “No. You’re gonna watch me open myself up for you, and you’re gonna stick that nice big cock in me, and you’re gonna shoot your load into my arse, yeah? That sound good to you?”

Merlin trips three times in his haste to get up the stairs.

***

They shower together first, washing the dried come from Merlin’s skin and kissing under the spray, and Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything better in his life. The wet of Arthur’s lips mixing with the water bearing down on them makes Merlin feel wholly submerged in bliss, like nothing can reach him as long as he’s got Arthur’s arms around him, Arthur’s thick cock pressed up against his own.

Arthur has Merlin sit in the chair by the bed, watching as Arthur gets on all fours and slicks himself, presses fingers into his arse and fucks back onto them. Merlin envies Arthur’s confidence, his complete lack of anxiety at displaying himself like this. Merlin’s never even imagined anything this hot, and it makes him wonder what other things Arthur could show him.

“How many times have you done this?” Merlin asks, realising how humiliating his lack of experience could turn out to be.

“Fingered myself?” Arthur lets out a breathy laugh.

“No, fucked guys.”

Arthur’s silent for a long moment, hand still between his thighs. “Never.”

“What?” Merlin sputters.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Arthur says, gruff.

Merlin takes a moment to let it process, then says, “Well, shouldn’t you be … saving this for someone special?”

“I’m older than you are,” Arthur says, and he sounds like he means it, like it’s an important distinction. It makes Merlin feel unsettled, a tightness gnawing at his belly.

“You’re not that much older.” Merlin means it to be reassuring, but it sounds petulant even to his own ears.

Arthur sighs and pulls his hand away from his arse, sitting back on his feet. He leans forward on balled-up fists, the muscles in his arms tense. “I really, really am.”

He seems so vulnerable like this, and not just because he’s naked and wet, arse open and exposed. He just seems raw, like being with Merlin is costing him something. Merlin walks over to the bed and slides himself under one of Arthur’s arms, lying on his back and looking up at Arthur’s face. His brow is furrowed and his lips pursed—concerned, maybe a bit sad—but when he looks down at Merlin, his eyes go soft and he smiles a bit. It makes Merlin feel warm inside, like he’s just sunk into a hot bath, and he reaches up and smooths his hands over Arthur’s arms, trying to ease out the tension in them.

Arthur slides one leg across Merlin, settling down on his hips, their half-hard cocks resting together on Merlin’s belly. He lowers down to his elbows and kisses the corner of Merlin’s lips, gentle and appreciative.

“You’re too sweet,” Arthur says, stroking his hand over Merlin’s cheek. “People will take advantage.”

Merlin brushes his nose against Arthur’s, because he wants to, and Arthur presses their foreheads together. “You won’t.”

“I already have,” Arthur says, and kisses him deeply.

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, pulls him down, strains up against the satisfying weight of him. He isn’t really sure what hookups are supposed to feel like, but the way Arthur kisses him feels too intense. There’s nothing casual about Arthur’s hand on Merlin’s ribs, fingers spread wide as they curl up around his shoulder.

The whole mood has shifted. The teasing and aggression are gone, and Arthur seems almost fragile. Merlin doesn’t know why, but it makes him feel important, makes him feel a bit brave. When Arthur slides up Merlin’s body a bit, Merlin takes it as a cue, and he discards his anxiety, reaching down for his cock and pressing the tip against Arthur.

“Fuck me,” Arthur whispers against Merlin’s mouth, broken-sounding, and Merlin pushes up as he guides Arthur’s hips down, cock sliding into the hot clench of Arthur’s body.

Merlin holds his breath, thinks he might pass out as Arthur sinks all the way down. His fingers dig hard into Arthur’s hips, and when Merlin remembers to look up at him, Arthur looks bloody _euphoric_ , mouth open and head tipped back.

Arthur begins to move slowly, and Merlin finds it’s easy to fall into the rhythm, rocking against him at the pace Arthur sets. He moves his hands down to Arthur’s thighs, feeling the muscles there, letting out a loud pant when Arthur speeds up.

Arthur’s cock looks perfect dragging across Merlin’s abdomen, and Merlin wraps his fingers around it, thumbing at its wet tip.

“Is this okay?” Merlin asks, watching his hand, and his voice sounds too loud.

“Yeah,” Arthur says. He leans forward, stretches his arms long above Merlin’s head, face close, and Merlin kisses him, soft and chaste. The new angle has Arthur taking long strokes, sliding half off Merlin’s cock before fucking back again, and Merlin knows he won’t last long this way. He pumps Arthur’s prick hard and fast, fingers circled just under the head like he does when he wants to get himself off quickly, and Arthur groans into it.

“You like getting fucked, don’t you?” Merlin says, embarrassed when he hears the way he sounds, out of breath and strained.

Arthur bites his lips and smiles, nodding, fucking back onto Merlin harder, like he likes it when Merlin talks.

“I’m so fucking hard for you,” Merlin says, and he thinks it’s stupid, but Arthur moans so long, so pretty, that Merlin sort of breaks and starts saying whatever weird shit comes to mind, harsh and whispered against Arthur’s chin.

Arthur’s mouth falls open and he starts gasping, his body shaking with tension as his movements get uneven and sloppy. He reaches down and pushes Merlin’s hand away, taking his own cock in hand and tugging on it roughly. Merlin wants him to come, wants to see it, and he wraps his hands around Arthur’s hips, bends his knees and plants his feet against the mattress for leverage to fuck up into Arthur _hard_. Arthur sounds like he’s coming undone, high-pitched moans spilling from him until he settles heavily down on Merlin and goes still.

Arthur’s mouth is wide open and silent as he comes, spattering Merlin’s belly. His fuck face is beautiful, and Merlin feels like he doesn’t deserve to see it, like it’s something sacred—that it should be saved for someone special. But Arthur looks down at him, eyes open and focussed, and Merlin is oddly overcome with emotion at that, knowing that Arthur wants to look at him while he comes. He smiles up at Arthur, wide and toothy and probably looking like an idiot, and Arthur twists his hips, sudden and rough.

Merlin’s orgasm takes him mostly by surprise, sucking the air out of his lungs as his hips stutter and grind against Arthur’s arse, fucking _upupup_ and spilling inside him. It’s fucking incredible, and he feels like he’s shaking apart, body trembling as his cock gives its last spurt. And Arthur just leans down and holds him, keeps Merlin tucked tight inside as he presses his face into Merlin’s neck.

Arthur eventually slips off of Merlin and thunks face down beside him on the bed, arms stretched above his head. He looks sated and lovely, and Merlin reaches out to touch him. He slides his hand down Arthur's back, dips his fingers into Arthur's hole and feels his come slipping out, earning a moan from Arthur. He scoots closer, licks at Arthur’s lips until Arthur slings an arm over Merlin and kisses him again.

"Mm, you're such a good boy," Arthur says between kisses, sounding almost sad. "You're gonna make some guy so happy."

Merlin looks at Arthur's gorgeous face, his sweaty brow, runs a hand over the muscles in Arthur's back and decides he only ever wants to make Arthur happy.

“Stay another night?” Arthur says, like he’s uncertain, and Merlin kisses him for being stupid.

“Of course.”

**2.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Tentacle Monster  
 **Warnings:** non-con of the tentacle monster variety

It always starts with a lake (a boy-meets-monster tale)

Merlin approached the lake with uncommon caution, sneaking looks behind him every few steps. If he’d told anyone about this (if he ever told anyone about this), they might have found it odd that was more worried about someone he knew following him than about the mysterious creature rumoured to be lurking in the lake.

If so, then they had never met Arthur and his stubborn, oblivious knights. Magical beasts were much simpler to handle, at least as long as Merlin was alone.

But for once, it seemed that his king and comrades had stayed safe in their bedrolls where they belonged. A lack of witnesses would make dealing with whatever waited in the dark water much easier: a little magic, maybe a bath afterwards if things got messy, and he could be back to camp in time to make breakfast.

The lake sat still, black and glossy in the faint light of dawn. Merlin watched it for a moment and then picked up the rock closest to his foot and threw it in. It made a satisfying plonk, but otherwise stirred nothing more than a few ripples. He threw in another, harder and farther, and got a bigger spread of ripples—and nothing else.

He frowned. The whispered warnings in the last village they passed through had made it sound like a person couldn’t get five horse-lengths from the water’s edge without risking an attack.

Maybe the monster liked to sleep late in the mornings, like lazy kings. But that probably wasn’t fair to the monster, who may well have had a late night terrorizing the countryside (or at least as much of the countryside as ventured within five horse-lengths of this particular lake).

A chill morning breeze rose off the water. Merlin shivered, missing his warm bedroll between the fire and Arthur. He was half tempted to call it a morning and slip back into bed for a few more winks before someone (Arthur) kicked him awake. Another sorcerer might have already come to deal with the monster, or perhaps it had decided to retire and caught a river current down to the seaside. 

He turned around, ready to leave, but then stopped and turned back to the lake with a resigned grimace. Ever since he had met Freya, he had felt a certain obligation toward lakes, as if he owed it to her to keep them clean and safe. He wouldn’t even let Gwaine use them as a place to throw his chicken bones.

Focusing his sleep-deprived brain with an effort, Merlin began considering what sort of spell might rouse a drowsy monster from the cosy depths of its lake.

Then something wrapped around his ankle and yanked him off his feet. 

He was halfway into the lake before he caught his breath enough to defend himself. “Auuugh!” he managed, which was not a spell with any particular magical effect to his knowledge. 

But to his surprise, whatever was dragging him into the water paused. Merlin lay with his head and shoulders pressed down into the mud, water lapping against his back while his lower body hung in the air from the iron grip on his ankle.

“Hello?” Merlin tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his captor, but his neck was already bent at an angle both uncomfortable and unhelpful. He hung for another awkward moment before trying a cautious magical poke.

The grip on his ankle tightened until he felt the stricture through his boot. A shiver travelled through the length of the – arm? rope? – holding him up.

Strangely, it didn’t feel as hostile as it had before, so Merlin tried again to reach out with voice and magic. “Er, it’s nice meeting you? Maybe you could let go of me now?”

The answer to that became clear a second later when his entire body jolted free of the mud.

"Wrong way! Wrong way!" He yelped and swung out over the water, which filled his vision in nauseating ripples.

Two more mysterious restraints wrapped around his arms and slowly drew him upright. He got his first look at the creature that had captured him.

"Auuuugh," he shouted again, though this time it came out as more of a gurgling, despairing whimper.

The monster was a mass of writhing tentacles. It had a body but no features, as though the bulk of it served only as a means of keeping all those tentacles in more or less the same place, linked together as each one worked its own nefarious will. Merlin could discern no eyes, nose, or even mouth, unless he counted a vertical slit that winked at him from the middle of the massive trunk.

Three of the tentacles were wound around Merlin, catching him like a rabbit in a snare. If that slit was a mouth, Merlin had the terrible feeling that he would be meeting a similar fate to the rabbit.

The monster seemed in no particular hurry to eat him, though. It lifted him higher into the air as if considering its options. Merlin spared a wild thought to wonder whether Arthur would find his broken body flung beneath the trees along the shore, or whether Merlin would be dragged down to die in the icy waters and Arthur would never find him at all.

Frantic at the thought of never seeing Arthur again, Merlin sent an unfocused blast of power at the monster. Killing magical beasts was rarely that easy, but he had no research, no books, no Gaius, not a single clue as to its nature or weaknesses, so he had to do what he could.

It shivered again, seeming almost... pleased? Merlin scowled and struggled against the tentacles wrapped around his arms.

"Fancy yourself a bite of sorcerer for breakfast, do you?" he snarled and lashed out with the most power he could focus without the use of his hands.

The monster outright shuddered that time, but seemed no worse for the wear. Additional tentacles snaked out and wrapped around Merlin's other leg, his chest, his shoulders, his waist, supporting his full weight easily.

He had to admit it was pretty comfortable. It wasn't hard to let himself relax in the thing's grip. Maybe if it thought he had given up, it would be easier to catch it by surprise.

The tentacle around his middle squeezed him with surprising gentleness. It slipped up to his chest and then down to his hips, squeezing every few inches as though testing him for something. "Seeing if I'm tender enough?" Merlin grumbled aloud. “Oh, hullo, what are we doing now?”

Another tentacle worked into his trousers to acquaint itself with him more intimately. It twined around Merlin’s cock and began squeezing him in a counterpoint to the squeezing around his midsection. Merlin got caught up in the rhythm despite himself, so much so that he failed to notice the third tentacle sneaking in the back. When it ripped his trousers right down his legs and flung them away, Merlin yelled in surprise.

He yelled again when the slippery tip of another tentacle probed between his cheeks. His yelling devolved into whimpering soon enough—the tip exuded a substance that was not just making him slick, but making his arse feel very good inside.

The deeper the tentacle delved, the better he felt. “Oh,” he said faintly as it rubbed its slippery stuff over his prostate. “All right, then. I guess we can be friends.”

He was bizarrely grateful to have so many tentacles supporting him, because he felt like he was melting inside, in the most enjoyable way possible. His cock was the only part of him with any firmness left to it. The tentacle inside him engorged until he groaned and then went deeper, spreading that pleasurable substance around until the core of him felt happy and relaxed.

The gentle, insistent penetration felt more like preparation than copulation. He felt no surprise when the tentacle shrank down and withdrew, after which Merlin’s legs were lifted and spread as wide as they could go. “Time for the main event?” he mumbled through his pleasure haze and wondered what a tentacle monster’s cock would look like and how it would feel while it fucked him.

But instead of guiding him onto a cock, a tentacle reached back toward the slit in the monster’s body, forming a scoop with its tip. It probed inside itself and emerged with a mound of glowing, translucent globes.

“Oh. Oh, my.” Merlin’s eyes widened as the scoopful of what could only be eggs drew closer to his body. “I get it now. Oh, this is awkward.”

The preparation had left him too relaxed to resist and too aroused to care. He felt a little sorry for this lonely monster. Obviously he would have to get rid of the eggs before they spawned, but there was no harm in going on with the process a little longer. He had a sneaking suspicion there would be an orgasm in it for him somewhere along the way.

So he didn’t even try to clench up against it as the tentacle burrowed back into his arse with its load of eggs. He groaned at the pressure as it pushed them deep into his gut and then went back for another load.

He had three scoops of eggs in his belly before the monster purred with satisfaction. Then a new tentacle rose up, hovering between Merlin’s legs—and there it was. He knew a cock when he saw it, even one that was preternaturally long and flexible, with odd protuberances along its length. 

It sank into him in one easy push and settled there, buried deep in his body. Merlin squirmed when it didn’t move, wanting a proper fucking. 

Instead, one of the protuberances lodged itself just inside his rim and began to swell. Merlin groaned at the new pressure, and groaned louder at the first gush of fluid that flooded him. The thick knot secured his entrance while the tentacle spurted inside him.

A shiver of pure magic went through him as the creature fertilized its eggs. “That’s why you were throwing all those other people around,” he slurred as his body arched in pleasure. “That’s why you liked me. You were waiting for someone with magic.”

Magic users were undoubtedly much scarcer now than when this creature had been born. Merlin wondered how long it had waited to find someone with enough magic to nurture and bear its young. He almost felt bad that he was going to have to rid himself of the eggs as soon as he got free. 

His belly had bloated up quite nicely by the time the knot deflated and the tentacle slithered free. Another tentacle quickly took its place, using its flexible tip to rub his prostate while the tentacle already wrapped around his cock began jerking him off in earnest. 

Yet another one stroked a milky substance over his lips. It tasted sweet with magic when he licked a drop of it, and when the rounded tip pressed harder against his lips, he opened his mouth and suckled greedily. He could tell at once that the milk was a sedative as well as a nutriment, but it did not lessen the pleasure as his body convulsed into a long, magic-flooded orgasm.

Merlin kept suckling as he relaxed into the spectacular afterglow. The tentacle only slipped from his mouth when he became too drowsy to suck. He rested in the cradle of the beast’s many arms as it moved back toward the shore.

He heard the sound of something digging in the wet ground. With some effort, he turned his head to see two tentacles scooping out a shallow hollow at the point where the shore met the water. When the hole was Merlin-sized, the creature gently lowered him into it and began packing the wet earth around his swollen body. Once he was covered to his neck, the creature gave a great sigh and sank back under the water.

Merlin lay still for a while, half dozing, secure in the ground. After a bit, he worked one hand through the mud until he could rub his belly and feel the magic there. If left to his own desires, he might wait and let the new life grow inside him until he was certain of what it was. But he had another destiny to serve and a king waiting. And he was not at all certain that Albion needed more tentacle monsters.

With some effort, he dug himself out and pushed his newly gravid body to his feet. His trousers hung from a nearby tree. Merlin stumbled towards them, but the first few steps shifted the eggs in his belly and he gasped from the sheer bliss of the magic. He sank to his knees and then rolled onto his back, reaching for his cock.

As he stroked himself, he watched the sun climbing over the tree line. He sighed. Arthur would just have to get his own breakfast today.

 

**3.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

He's just coming out of the shower when he hears the bang and thump, hair curling wet around his ears and nothing but a blue fluffy towel wrapped around his waist as he heads towards his bedroom.

Footsteps, and then he's looking right into the startled face of the man who just managed to break in through his magically locked front door.

Merlin stares, frozen and Arthur stares back, breathing a little too hard and eyes slightly manic. Merlin has no idea how much Arthur knows or if he remembers anything at all. Maybe the cosmos really is that much a bitch and Arthur was reincarnated as the world's worst thief who just happened to pick Merlin's flat as the one to burgle tonight.

So Merlin thinks very hard about how someone else would react in this situation and says the most normal thing he can think of so that the words that come out of his mouth won't be a litany of “I missed you” and “Arthur” over and over again.

“Did you just break into my flat?” he asks after a beat.

Arthur looks back at the door, then at Merlin again and says, “er- yes. I think I did.”

It's the beginning of something beautiful. Or so the writer in Merlin poetically wants to believe.

He directs Arthur to the kitchen and tells him to put the kettle on while Merlin goes and gets dressed. He entertains himself with a little fantasy that Arthur comes barging in to see him naked, pushes him onto the bed and has wild, enthusiastic sex with him. It's funny until it reminds Merlin a little too much of the old days and then it just hurts inside his chest a little.

“I made one of each,” Arthur tells him when he makes it to the kitchen, hair still damp, but otherwise dressed and presentable in a clean shirt and a pair of simple trousers. Merlin rolls his eyes because of course this Arthur is a little too forward just like the last one and has been rooting through his cabinets without permission.

But when Merlin picks the blue cup with the green tea in it, he sees Arthur smile a little and take the red cup with the black like it was the one he wanted all along. He wonders if somehow Arthur _knew._

“So tell me, why did you break into my flat?” Merlin asks conversationally as he passes Arthur the sugar and doesn't take any for himself.

“You were at the casting,” Arthur says which isn't very informative at all. Merlin quirks his eyebrows up at him in annoyance and Arthur looks away, abashed.

“They're very interested in having me involved. It's unusual, but not unheard of,” Merlin tells him calmly, taking a seat in one of the high chairs at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Arthur takes the seat next to his.

“I've never acted before, never even taken lessons. But I heard about the TV show and I just had to try out,” Arthur admits, stirring too much sugar into his tea.

“Why?”

“I- I've read all your books,” Arthur stumbles and Merlin knows as surely as he's always known that Arthur is trying not to tell him something important.

“You might find it's very hard to surprise me, Arthur,” Merlin says with a slow, almost devious smile. He laughs at the way Arthur's head snaps up in surprise.

“How do you know my- oh, you must have heard them say it,” he says, making up the reason for himself without assistance. Merlin hadn't; he's known Arthur's name for thousands of lonely years. But he doesn't tell Arthur that, not yet.

“You said you had to try out,” Merlin redirects, trying to get Arthur to admit whatever it is giving him that odd expression that's half trepidation and half curiosity.

“I've read all your books,” Arthur starts again. “And this is going to sound crazy, but I really think I might actually be Arthur. The one from the story, I mean.”

Merlin laughs, loud and clear and watches as Arthur puts his tea down a little too hard, sloshing some over the side, and drops his eyes in embarrassed anger. Merlin isn't laughing for the reason Arthur thinks he is, but Arthur can't possibly know that.

“Look, I know I sound like a nutter-” he starts and Merlin cuts him off.

“I believe you.”

“Oh.” Then Arthur is looking at him in open surprise, realizing slowly that Merlin isn't mocking him at all. Which... really isn't what he was expecting.

“You didn't explain why you broke into my flat,” Merlin says far too cheerfully for someone whose flat has just been broken into by a lunatic claiming to be one of the characters out of his novels. Except that Merlin's novels actually belong in the non-fiction section and Arthur is almost exactly what he says he is - the original Arthur that Merlin's stories are about. It's a complicated circle.

“I followed you home. Not to be creepy or anything!” Arthur exclaims and Merlin likes that this new Arthur gets flustered a little more easily and seems like he has a little less pride than the last one. Merlin loves him already, not that he ever doubted he would. Merlin probably would have loved him no matter what.

“You took your time. I was in the shower for nearly half an hour,” Merlin says conversationally. Running water, electricity and central heating are three of the things he enjoys most about the modern world. The noise he could do without, but he's learned not to notice it most days.

“I had to wait for someone to let me into the building,” Arthur mutters sheepishly. Merlin's building is, of course, locked to all visitors who don't have a key and haven't been buzzed up by a resident. He would have had to wait until someone went in or out and squeezed in through the door as it closed behind them.

“So why did you follow me?” It's starting to feel a bit like pulling teeth, but he's determined to know what brought Arthur this far. He can sense the buzzing under his skin of being this close to Arthur again and it's distracting.

“I don't know. I just saw you and I had this moment where I realized I might never see you again and I _had_ to make sure that didn't happen. Oh, god, I sound like a creepy stalker,” Arthur groans, burying his face in his hands. “I promise I won't kill you in your sleep.”

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't. So would my publisher, I think,” Merlin chuckles, taking a large mouthful of tea now that it's cooled to a reasonable drinking temperature.

“How about we go out for dinner?” Arthur says, eyes filled with budding hope.

“You're very forward for a creepy stalker,” Merlin replies with a grin.

They do and Merlin picks the place because it turns out that Arthur doesn't live in London and knows next to nothing about the area. They eat big, steaming bowls of noodles and talk about his books and Merlin can't help but smile when he starts talking about events he never wrote in and Arthur remembers them anyway.

Arthur insists on paying even though Merlin offers, claiming he's a gentleman and it's the least he can do for acting like a crazy person. Merlin could afford it, has spent all this time accumulating a fortune without quite meaning to, but he lets Arthur do it anyway just to avoid the argument.

As they're leaving, Arthur admits he hasn't even considered where he's going to stay.

“You are absolutely useless, aren't you?” Merlin teases, holding his hand out to flag down a cab.

“I am not!” Arthur squawks and doesn't even seem to notice that Merlin is taking him back to his place until they're climbing out and Merlin is paying the driver.

He stays for a week, then two and keeps fussing about how he's “really sorry” and he'll “leave the next morning, I swear”. Merlin never lets him, always cutting off the comments and his feeble attempts at escape with a few assurances and a change of topic. Arthur clearly wants to stay almost as much as Merlin wants him to, which is to say: desperately.

He never finds out if Arthur has a job or a house or a family, but he sees his phone light up sometimes with texts asking where he is and if he's died. Arthur usually replies to them, through what excuse he's managed to cook up, Merlin doesn't know.

A week later he says he needs to go home and looks like someone just kicked the puppy Merlin isn't even sure he owns.

“I'll come back soon-” he says like a promise, like coming back to see a stranger he's only known for a little over two weeks in the most important thing in the world. Except, in a way, it is.

“One of the filming locations is near you. I'll meet you there,” Merlin says, texting him the location.

Arthur nods. “Okay.”

+

They sit huddled shoulder to shoulder under a plaid blanket on a set of rickety wooden stairs to watch the filming. It's freezing cold out and the actors are all wandering around in big, puffy down jackets whenever they aren't filming. Merlin smokes a cigarette – they can't kill him after all – and wishes idly that they'd had jackets like that back when he been forced to follow Arthur around Camelot's grounds in the winter. 

He hums and nods in all the right places as Arthur quietly, resentfully mutters about how they should have chosen him for the part, how he would have _better._ Merlin doesn't reply because he doesn't agree. Arthur knows too much and even if he wouldn't quite understand why, he'd remember every word, every perfect stroke of the sword he'd made a thousand times before and that's exactly the problem. 

The directors would want to change things to make them more appealing, more sensible or any of a hundred other things and Arthur would fight them on it every step of the way because it wasn't _right._ No, it's better to watch, smile and laugh at the things they get so horribly, horribly wrong and even, sometimes, the little things they accidentally get just perfect.

The casting for Arthur is alright; he's tall, blonde and striking. Their Merlin looks all wrong, but he gives smiles away too freely and isn't always totally in control of all his limbs. He's exactly how Merlin remembers being when he was still so very, very young.

Arthur comes every day for a week straight and Merlin doesn't really need to be there, but he pretends he does and neither of them mention it. They take turns running to get tea or cocoa or sandwiches and always manage to get just the right thing. 

It's comfortable, easier than Merlin ever imagined, falling back into step with Arthur like this. It's different because Merlin isn't his servant, doesn't have to fear for his life with every waking breath and Arthur isn't weighed down by the burden of a crown on his head and a father who wanted to much. But really, it's almost exactly the same because Arthur is still too kind and too brave and loves with everything that he is. Merlin is older now, but he waited all this time and doesn't regret a moment of it, not when Arthur comes jogging back with two paper cups and a bagel stuffed in his mouth, all golden hair and smiles.

It's the last day at this location and the last scene and Merlin can't say the filming has been bad so far but this is when it finally happens, when the two actors running around on the lawn in front of them finally _click_ so perfectly it feels like double vision, like Merlin is back in Camelot watching himself and Arthur in the very beginning before destiny came crashing down on their shoulders.

He looks at Arthur and Arthur looks back and Merlin feels the moment that something clicks into place for him too.

Then they're kissing and neither of them knows who started it, but it doesn't really matter anyway.

Maybe someone notices them, tucked away in the corner and kissing under a shabby old blanket that belongs to Arthur's mother. But if they do, they never say anything.

He takes Arthur back to his hotel room and pushes him down into the sheets as soon as they get there, laughing all the while with the joy bubbling up inside him.

“I missed you,” he says, then his eyes flash gold and their clothing is gone. He enjoys the stutter of breath as Arthur realizes what happened. Somehow, despite everything, Arthur never quite knew until the end last time and by then it was too late for Merlin to show him all the wonderful things his magic could do.

Things are different this time around. The world doesn't believe in magic anymore, not really, and Arthur doesn't have a kingdom to rule. Perhaps Arthur's here for a reason; maybe something big is just on the horizon. But Merlin is wiser now and he presses promise after promise into Arthur's skin with his lips and teeth and tongue, each one a promise not to fail this time.

Arthur gasps and shudders under Merlin's mouth and the weight of a whole other lifetime in his head. In the most bizarre way, the feeling of Merlin's mouth, hot and tight on his prick feels a little like coming home and the strangeness of it pulls a laugh out of his chest.

Merlin is too good at this and Arthur feels too much, skin prickling like the feeling just before a static shock and he comes too quickly with sharp moan.

Merlin flops down on his back next to him, nuzzling at his shoulder and teasing him until Arthur bats him away. Then he gets to watch the slow, almost lazy way that Merlin gets himself off, hand sliding over the length of his cock in the most utterly distracting way. 

The lines of his body go tense when he comes, breath catching in his throat and it's the most beautiful sight Arthur has ever seen.

Things are different this time, so Arthur waits until they're a little cleaner and curled up together under the warm sheets to murmur a question into Merlin's skin.

“Is it okay if I love you this time?”

Merlin doesn't reply because he doesn't need to. He just kisses Arthur, slow and deep and knows he understands.


End file.
